Déjà Vu
by Sisanae
Summary: As the battle against Ultimate Evil draws ever closer, the adventurers of Crossroad Keep must band together to face their most terrifying challenge yet, or become the laughing stock of all Faerun. But there's something oddly familiar about the opponents..
1. The Beginning

Sisanae's Note:

Wow, my first story in _chapters_. Maybe that's only impressive to me. Meh. ;)

Anyway, as per usual, none of these people, places etc etc belong to me, except for the two drow. (In this chapter, anyway...) Go Atari/Obsidian!

Only first chapter so far, the second is well and truly underway :) It's turning out much longer than I anticipated!

Love to the wonderful people who review. You may have a cookie :)

* * *

It was deathly silent. Along the corridors, light's flickered and spun golden trails into the air, because Crossroad Keep's select residents had learnt long ago what happens when they go out… 

Kana gently knocked on the door of the Captain's bedroom.

"Captain?"

There was no reply. The deputy smiled to herself. Of course the Captain would be asleep. It was quite late, after all, and the little drow had so much to do; she'd probably fallen asleep at her desk again. Still grinning, Kana started to tip-toe back down the hall, avoiding all of the creaky floorboards in a way that would've made Neeshka proud. She'd give the Captain the document in the morning. Kana silently scolded herself for not giving it to her earlier. She'd been putting it off, worried about not her Captain's reaction (she would probably laugh, and sign up immediately) but rather the reaction of her travelling companions. They would either be ecstatic at such an opportunity, or, more likely, refuse to do it point-blank. It would not, the deputy decided, end well.

"_Ooaaheee, yoooouuuuu aaaaarrreeeee soooooo BE-A-U-tiiiiifuuuulllll toooo….MEEEEEE…."_

Kana clapped her hands over her ears in horror. Dear Gods, could it really be?! That explained where the Captain was, anyway.

"_Aaaand yooouu'rrreeee everythiiiiing I neeeeeeeed….."_

Kana groaned. The week was not nearly long enough.

Friday Night. It could mean only one thing.

Karaoke.

  

"Well…thank you, Sand. That sure was…original!" Kiadra was standing on a makeshift stage in the Phoenix Tail, trying to conceal the fact that she was removing cotton wool from her ears from the now-beaming moon elf. The audience, which included a fair number of the workers of Crossroad Keep, along with some of her travelling companions, were trying desperately to do the same, whilst at the same time clapping. It was quite humorous to watch, especially in the case of a certain paladin. Kiadra waited until the wizard had left the stage, taking up his customary seat furthest away, before continuing.

"What he may lack in size, this fellow sure makes up for in mind-blowing voice. Let's give a big, warm welcome to our very own soul singer…KHELG-!" Kiadra was distracted by the sudden appearance of Kana, who threw open the inn's door dramatically (causing Sand to roll his eyes at the _pointlessness_ of it all) and, staggering slightly, took a few steps, before falling flat on her face. However, the deputy was by no means unpopular, and soon had a full entourage of men picking her up from the rather dirty floor, and buying her drinks. Grinning at Kana's bemused expression, Kiadra stepped down from the stage, and picked up the papers her deputy had dropped.

"Oh my, what have you done wrong _this_ time?" drawled Sand, who had come over to see what the commotion was all about, "Flushed a toilet without her knowing?"

Kiadra looked up at the wizard, a playful gleam in her eye.

"Let's do it, Sand!" she cried.

Sand, for once, looked completely taken off guard, his face flushing.

"W…whaa?"

"Come on! It'll be fun! We could probably get some of the other guys to help as well!"

This caused Sand's eyes to grow very, very big indeed, and his face to blush a deeper shade of beetroot.

"My...my dear girl, I'm truly flattered, but really…"

"What? Is something wrong? Do I smell bad?" she smirked at him.

"No...no…it's just well…I don't think we'd…you know, _us_…we'd…work."

There was an awkward silence.

"What in the Hells _are_ you talking about, Sand?"

However, before the incredibly embarrassed wizard could reply, there came a shout from the 'behind the scenes' area of the stage.

"Whaddya mean, I can't go on?! Do ye have any idea how long it took me to sew this bloody thing?! Just the sequins, the stinkin' sequins alone, took three whole, damn hours!"

Kiadra gestured towards the stage and rolled her eyes at Sand, who was still trying to make himself as small as possible.

They didn't have to wait long.

"Lass! What, by the Nine Hells, is goin' on?!" Khelgar ran out from behind the raggedy curtain, followed closely by Grobnar, who was desperately trying to tweak the angry dwarf's outfit.

And what an outfit it was. It was all Kiadra could do to stop herself laughing. Sand, however, wasn't quite so tactful.

"Dear gods. What _are_ you wearing?!"

Khelgar shot him a look. "Don't ye recognise a minidress when ye see one?"

"If you would excuse me, my _dear_ Captain, I must find myself a bucket to be thoroughly sick in."

"Got no taste, that's the problem with elves." huffed Khelgar as Sand scurried away to the bar, "Present company excluded, of course."

Kiadra grinned. She had known all about Khelgar's little number in advance, of course. It was a shame she hadn't been able to talk him out of the wig…

"Anyway, lass, what's all this about, ey? It'd better be good!"

Kiadra showed him and Grobnar the letter. They both beamed.

"Count us in!"

  

"No way."

"But...but...Bishop…we only need one more person…" Kiadra sat across the table from the surly ranger, making big puppy dog eyes and fluttering her eyelashes (causing a series of snorts and eyerolling from her nearly-complete team, who sat behind her at some of the other tables.). It wasn't working.

"I said no, okay? Make the bloody warlock do it."

"He wooon't, Bishop...he says it's a waste of valuable time…" Kiadra pouted.

"For once, old tattoo-head is right. It _is_ a waste of time."

Kiadra sighed, and took a sip of her ale.

"Funny, that's just what _Casavir_ said you would do." she said slyly.

Bishop went quiet for a moment.

"Fine. I'll go. That is, if you make it worth my while." he raised his eyebrows suggestively.

A certain paladin appeared and punched him in the mouth.

"My teef…"

"Yey, Sir Bishop has officially been recruited! May I sing the song I especially composed for this _very _occasion?" squealed Grobnar, who had drifted over to their table.

Kiadra smiled at the little gnome. "Go ahead."

"Well, you see, there's a _very_ funny story about this one. You see, I was walking through the woods when I spied this incredibly _strange_-looking flower. For some bizarre reason, it reminded me of Sir Bishop here! I'm not entirely sure _why_ though, it may have been the spikes, or the fact that although the flower _looked_ very strong, as soon as I poked it, as you do, you know, it fell _right_ over! That reminded me of the time when Sir Bishop here saw the Captain bathmfffmffmff…mff?" Bishop, one hand tightly clasped around the gnome's mouth, dragged him off into a corner, far out of Kiadra's hearing. The drow grinned, putting her boots up onto the table top, and took another sip of ale. Casavir simply glared in the ranger's direction.

"I'm surprised _you_ agreed to do it, actually." she gave the paladin a thoughtful look.

"I have my reasons." he replied, staring fiercely at a beer mat, as if daring it to try anything unholy.

"Oh, really?" Kiadra raised an eyebrow, "It doesn't somehow involve beating Bishop, does it?"

Casavir appeared to think about this.

"We're on the same team, obviously. Such a thing could not occur."

"Accidents happen, you know."

"Not to me, I assure you."

"But maybe to a certain ranger?" Kiadra stared at the paladin.

_Come on, come on, she thought, just a little one…_

"…Are you looking forward to meeting the other Keep?"

_Damn it! So close!_

Kiadra snorted, "Hah. They'll be a bunch of loons, sticks right up their ar-"

"Please, Captain."

_I saw that! A flicker, but it was definitely there! You finally smiled! You ARE human…Neeshka owes me fifty gold.…_

"Heh, heh. Sorry. You know what I mean though, right? Probably some rich Lord, who bought his way in…"

"I could take great offence to this, my lady. You are undermining my entire loyalty system."

Kiadra stuck her tongue out at him. He stared at her.

"Aw, come on, Casavir. Lighten up. We'll need lots of – hey, Sand, what's the word? Ah yes, thanks – _team spirit_ if we're going to beat that other Keep."

"And what exactly do we have to do?"

"Ah well, you see, that's where the letter gets a little bit sketchy…"

  

"Come ooon, how long are these losers going to be?"

Kiadra's assembled team stood in the Keep's courtyard, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the opposing keep. They had been doing so for a very long time.

"Patience, my _dear_ Qara." Sand was leaning on his staff, watching the group with a very bored expression. He was currently entertaining himself by imagining the moaning sorceress bald.

"I could sing a song, you know, to pass the time…"

"Even think about opening your mouth, _half-pint_ and I'll relocate your instrument right up your-"

"Ye got something against short people, ranger?! Maybe you'd better face my fist next, eh?!"

"Oh, hush now…Stumpy."

"Ye too, tiefling!"

Kiadra groaned, and raised her eyes to the heavens.

"Captain!" a Greycloak came running through the Keep's gate, followed by the rest of his patrol, who kept looking at the Captain and whispering to each other. Kiadra was used to this, however – there were still many who considered her heritage more important than her deeds. She'd lived with this prejudice all her life, but now revelled in the various humorous expressions that occurred during first meetings.

"Yes, Sergeant?"

"I…that is...err...we," the sergeant fiddled with the end of the cloak, "well, you see, it's a bit embarrassing, really. We were out patrolling, and well, we saw what was, I mean, what we _thought_ was...you...Captain...and some of the men made some…remarks and-"

"Does this fascinating story actually _have _a point?" snapped Sand, who was irritably tapping his foot.

"Wha-? I mean, yes. Yes. Well you see Captain, the thing was…this person _looked_ just like you, but err…it wasn't."

Kiadra raised an eyebrow.

"You see, Captain, it was a…ma-"

A loud shout echoed around the courtyard, coming from the front gates.

"Are we _there_ yet?"

"For the last stinkin' time, elf, we are _not_ there yet!"

"Oh really? Looks like a Keep to me, Runty."

"Stay outta this, tiefling!"

"Dear gods, will you lot stop fighting for _one minute_ so we can actually find out where we are?"

"It does appear to be a Keep, sir."

"Well, that's step one out of the way. Do we all agree that this _is_, in fact, a Keep?"

The courtyard was silent, everyone staring at the gates.

"Do you think we should knock?"

"Of course not, we're _adventurers_! Adventurers don't knock! We pillage, and burn, and-"

"That's barbarians, you stupid ranger."

"Yeah, yeah? Want to take it outside, sorcerer?"

"We _are_ outside, idiot."

"As much as I hate to agree with the _boy_, he's got you there…moron."

"Shh! Don't you all…_notice_ something?"

"Ew, Runty hasn't let one go again, has she?"

"Shut UP, tiefling!"

"No, no, I mean, be quiet, and _listen._"

There was a pause.

"What are we supposed to hear?"

"Nothing!"

"…eh?"

"What our leader means, wizard, is that we can hear nothing because there are _no sounds to hear_."

"Will some-one please translate from paladin for me?"

"Gods…they mean there's no sound because everyone is _listening_."

"Listening? To…what…"

There was a silence, followed by a very gentle rapping on the gate.

"H..hello? Err…is anyone…in?"

"Oh, smooth move, _Captain._"

Kiadra cleared her throat. "Erm, well...yes...we are, actually."

There was another pause.

"…Good. Err."

"Would you, um, like to…come in?" Kiadra asked, moving slowly towards the gate.

There appeared to be a heated discussion on the other side.

"I know, I know, but...well…when you put it like that…"

"To the hells with this! Are we at the damnable Crossroad Keep or not?!" yelled the gate.

"Yes...you are."

"…Ah."

  

The two groups stood on opposite sides of the courtyard, facing each other. The leader of the second party bowed, the tip of his feathered cap just brushing the cobblestones.

"Apologies for our…awkward…entrance earlier, oh Captain of Crossroad Keep. We have been travelling for quite some time now, and have had…difficulties…reaching our destination. Let me give you a proper introduction." the male drow smiled, his purple eyes glittering. "I am Kiadran, Captain of Riverguard Keep. A bard of many names, which often include "Hey, you!" and "Buggeroff". I specialize in mind-clouding magics, in the hopes of dominating my opponents long enough for me to make off with their treasure." He grinned again. "And these are my travelling companions…"

"Grobnara-"

A little gnome curtsied, sending her crazy mass of blonde hair flying.

"Khelgrina-"

A tough looking dwarf nodded her head slightly, leaning on her battle-axe. Her face was a patchwork of scars, but her eyes…her eyes had the same friendly, battle-hungry gleam that Kiadra knew only too well.

"Sandray-"

The bored, posh-looking moon elf simply snorted, and rolled her eyes. She had long, black hair that fell down to her waist, and a deep blue robe that sparkled in the sunlight.

Kiadra saw Sand fidget uncomfortably. He'd always wanted a robe like that…

"Neeshkir-"

"Yo." a tall, brown-haired tiefling's eyes met Kiadra's, and he grinned. The drow sighed in relief. He'd been paying far too much attention to the powerful (and _expensive_) chain around her neck.

"Cassy-"

The paladin standing on Kiadran's left nodded at her. She was quite tall (much, much bigger than her leader) and had shoulder length wavy black hair. She stood to firm attention, not a single muscle moving, apart from her eyes – which were on the male drow constantly. She felt Casavir stiffen, and flicked him round the ear. There was going to be none of _that_.

"Qarat-"

Kiadra's sorceress laughed, causing the young, red-haired sorcerer on the other side to scowl profusely.

"And, last and definitely least, Bishia."

"Hey! Watch your mouth, _Captain_." spat a young woman on his right, who was leaning against the keep's wall. She was about average in size and build, and had very short, spiked hair. Her hands, fingernails painted black, were firmly wrapped around her bow, and her outlined eyes scanned Kiadra and her companion's faces. They lingered on Bishop for a while, who was busy cleaning the bottom of his boots. He really wasn't interested.

"You will not speak to Kiadran like that, ranger." Cassy glared at her.

"Oh, get a _life_, paladin. I'll say whatever I damn well please."

Cassy walked over to the smirking ranger, and slapped her round the face.

"Now _where_ have I seen that before?" drawled Sand, smirking at Casavir and Bishop, as a fight started to break out on the other side.

"Shut up, shorty." growled Bishop.

"I'm not _that _sh-"

"That's it, ranger! I'll take ye to the cleaners!"

"Oh, do shut up, Khelgar."

"Shut up yourself, fire-hair!"

Kiadra groaned, and shared a look with Kiadran, who winked, and gestured towards the Phoenix Tail. Grinning appreciatively, Kiadra nodded, and the two drow slipped off into the inn, leaving their parties fighting amongst themselves.

  


	2. Portal Hopping

Sisanae's Note:

**Finally**, Chapter Two is up! This story is turning out much longer than I anticipated... not that that's a bad thing, of course :)

As per usual, most of these character's (sadly) do not belong to me. Go Go, Atari/Obsidian.

Without wanting to give too much away, if you recognise the "running man" you may have a cookie. :) If you don't, it's not important!

Love to reviewers. You guys make me happy :)

* * *

The following morning, the teams found themselves once again stood in Crossroad Keep's courtyard, at opposing ends (apart for the two gnomes, who were in what could only be described as 'no man's land', having a heated discussion about the Wendersnaven, and whether said Wendersnaven liked rock and roll music.). There was a lot of glaring taking place between the two sides, although in most cases it was purely for the look of the thing (With the exception of the glaring that occurred on the same team, of course).

"Where is that damn Kana?" Qara was busy inspecting her fingernails, ignoring the gaze of the sorcerer from Riverguard.

"She's a busy woman, Qara. Be more patient." Casavir was stood in his customary place next to the Captain, staring at a wall. Paladins are entertained easily.

Qara snorted, and muttered something under her breath.

"Now, now, _girl_, if you have something to say to our dear paladin, say it louder." Sand smirked at the sorceress. "I _am_ five hundred, you know, and my exceptional hearing isn't what it used to be."

Casavir turned around, and fixed Qara with a cold stare.

"Stop freaking the girl out, paladin. Save those looks for our _glorious _Captain, ey?" Bishop, still being watched by Riverguard's ranger, leaned against the wall coolly.

Kiadra turned around, and punched Bishop in the mouth. She was surprisingly tough for such a little drow. There was a little yelp from the other side of the courtyard.

"Thank you." said the paladin, turning back round.

"You're welcome, I'm sure."

"Ah, finally!" Qara waved her staff at the sprinting deputy who had just entered the courtyard. "Hey, Kana! Get a move on, already!" Kana looked up at the shout, before tripping over herself. Again.

Kiadra stood on her tip-toes, reached out, and grabbed a certain paladin's ear; he'd started to make a dash for the damsel in distress.

"Wait…" she sighed. Re-training paladins was always hard.

Casavir struggled for a bit, but the drow had a firm grip. Resignation set in, and Casavir simply crossed his arms in defeat.

"Oh, stop sulking. Look..."

A dozen of Crossroad Keep's workers and, for some reason, Neeshkir, had run to Kana's aid, and the deputy was now back on her feet, looking slightly more dazed than usual. Kiadra cocked an eyebrow at the men, who hurriedly ran back to whatever they were supposed to be doing. She smiled.

"_Now_ you may go help her. But just hold her up, mind." she let go of Casavir's ear. He gave her a look, before his paladin instincts got going and he rushed off.

Looking across the courtyard, Kiadra saw that Riverguard's Captain was doing a similar thing to his paladin. He saw her staring and smiled, and rolled his eyes in a way that suggested "You too, huh?". She smiled back at him. She liked Kiadran. It was nice to finally talk to some-one who _didn't_ have the mental age of a three year old.

  

"The competition will begin at sunset today. The first team to get all of the items on their list wins!" Kana beamed at the two parties, waving two identical pieces of paper in the air.

"Oh yes? And what no doubt _amazing_ prize do we win?" Sand was not impressed.

Neither, it seemed, was his Riverguarden counterpart.

"Another _priceless_ weapon that, for some incomprehensible reason, sells for only 15,000 gold pieces?" moaned the moon elf, banging her staff indignantly on the nearest surface, which was Khelgrina's foot. "A book on how to craft some completely useless, but no doubt _rare_ item? We already have far too many of those, thank you very much. And it is _I _who has to carry them all!"

"Fer god's sake, elf, ye think _ye've_ got it bad? Yer not the one lumberin' around with five unused sets of armour, 'cause some bleeding drow can't decide what to wear in the morning!" cried the dwarf, hopping on one foot.

"I cannot help but feel we are straying off the topic here, ladies. My attire, as interesting to the fairer sex it may be, is not why we are here."

"Our leader speaks true. Try to be quiet." Cassy glared at the two women.

"Oh, of _course_ our leader is right. Our leader is _always_ right, isn't he? Remember that time we went into that Tomb of Not-Quite-So-Evil Villians because our dear leader thought it was full of designer shoes, and nearly _died_? He sure was right about th-OW!"

"Was that really necessary?" Kiadran sighed, handing a bandage to the now wailing ranger.

"Yes." chorused the three other women.

Kana coughed nervously.

"Oh, don't mind them. Please, carry on." the bard smiled and tipped his hat at the deputy, who blushed scarlet.

Cassy shot her a look.

  

_At sunset…in Crossroad Keep's Library…_

"Okay, to do this faster we'll split into two groups. Khelgar, Neeshka and Grobnar, you guys take the left portal. Casavir, Bishop and I will take the right."

"This _sucks_! I'm always with the bloody paladin!"

"That's because I don't trust you." Kiadra beamed at him.

"Ouch, that one hurt, _Captain._ Next time, try to go for something that _isn't_ obvio-" There was a short thump, followed by a slightly longer groan. "…STOP BLOODY DOING THAT!"

"You deserved it." Casavir inspected his fist for any lasting damage.

"What _I_ want to know is _how_, when I specifically said I _would not_ take part, I appear to have been lumbered with the job of portal opener?!" snarled a rather grumpy looking warlock, who was stood between the two portals, arms held high in deep incantation. Or maybe he was just holding the ceiling up. It was hard to tell.

"Hush now, Jerro, and you can have a muffin." Kiadra waved it in front of the scowling warlock's face.

There was a pause.

"…what flavour muffin?"

"I wouldn't bother, if I were you. It's not like the warlock can offer us anything _useful_ anyway. I assure you, Qara and I can handle this." Sand was leaning over another one of the many big, dusty tomes that he was so very fond of. He had been doing so since the morning, when Kiadra had first begged him to find a way for quicker transportation. He remembered sighing, complaining, and basically telling her that there was 'nothing in the Realms that could convince him to work with Qara, of all people' but somehow…somehow he'd ended up here, in the Library, desperately trying to open portals. The wizard sighed. He must learn to say "no"…

Ammon Jerro huffed, and turned his attention to the waiting drow.

"I will keep this portal open, on two conditions."

"Yes?"

"One: You take the bloody elf and the whining girl with you. One thing I cannot stand is back-seat conjuring."

Qara looked up from her place beside the portals, and pouted.

Kiadra sighed. "Agreed."

"Two, and this one is most important."

"Uh-huh…"

"Make it a chocolate muffin."

  

"Come on, Team Gnomehands! Time to go, quick, quick, quick!" Grobnar squealed, hurling himself towards their portal, before Neeshka grabbed him in mid flight.

"Woah, hold up there, little gnome. Qara's still moaning."

"…and _another_ thing that is stupid about this group is our name. Why do we have to be named after the gnome, anyway? Team Qara, for example, that sounds _so_ much better!"

Khelgar groaned, "Lass, can we just get moving already?"

"Oh yeah? And since when did yo- HEY WHAT ARE YOU DO-AHHH!"

Neeshka burst out laughing.

"Haha, nice one, Khelgar. Now we have something soft to land on."

A long reel of curses came out from the portal the sorceress had been pushed in.

"Ooh, ooh, me next!" Grobnar wriggled out of Neeshka's grasp and jumped through.

"We'd better get going, Stumpy. Or there's going to be one very crispy gnome on the other side." the tiefling waved at the rest of the group, before stepping into the portal, followed closely by Khelgar, who tripped over and hit his head on the way in.

"Buggerrrrrryyyyyyy…"

Sand sighed. "Well, as entertaining as watching Ammon trying to cast and eat at the same time is, we had better be getting on. What is first?"

Kiadra consulted her half of the list.

"The leaf of an otherworldly tree…."

"…You've got to be joking, right? Who's dumb idea was it to do a scavenger hunt, anyway?" Bishop scowled at the Captain.

"I believe that Lord Nasher organised it, ranger. It is not our Captain's fault."

"…do you ever shut up, paladin?"

Sand watched Casavir's expression, and when it became obvious that he wasn't going to do anything entertaining, fired a small lightning bolt at the ranger.

"On the house," the wizard beamed.

Bishop growled, and rubbed his arm where the bolt had hit.

"…Where's the Captain?"

Ammon Jerro rolled his eyes, "If you three had actually been paying attention, she's already gone through the portal."

"Eeep! Something _terrible_ could have happened to her! She could have been captured by bandits, or attacked by vicious wilder beasts or, or..." Sand watched as the two men tried desperately to squeeze themselves through a one-man portal, as the warlock laughed at them. He enjoyed baiting those two. It was something to do when Qara was recovering.

  

Kiadra found herself in the middle of a plain, which stretched as far as she could see. The ground had a slight orangey hue to it, and it was incredibly hot. She sat down on the floor and was surprised to discover that instead of a rock, which she had been expecting, the ground was in fact sand. A peculiar coloured sand, but sand none the less. She picked some up and was watching it trickle through her fingers when Casavir and Bishop appeared. Falling from a few feet above the ground, the two fell flat onto their faces. She could hear groaning.

"You…idiotic…ranger…should…have…waited…"

"Don't…blame…this…on me…_paladin_. I…was…first…"

"Were…not…"

"Were…too…"

"Were…too…"

"Were…not…damn!"

Kiadra bent down in front of the two, and smiled. Silently, she reached down, and poked them both on the forehead.

"WHY YO-"

**-THUMP-**

"Thanks, Casavir."

"Welcome as always, my lady."

"Oh my, I turn my back for one second and you knock out Bishop?" Sand came floating down on a miniature cloud, stepping carefully off it and clicking his fingers to make it disappear. He sniffed the air indignantly, before turning his attention back to the group. "Really, Casavir, you have not done a very good job of it. Revive him, please."

Casavir frowned as he got up, "Why?"

"Because, you silly paladin, neither myself nor our dear Captain have the _joys_ of Lay on Hands."

"I could always try and use my Heal skill..." Kiadra started to root around her pack for Healing Kits.

"No!" the two men cried in unison.

"My dear girl, we do _not_ want a repeat of…last time…" Sand shuddered. "So, make with the holiness, _paladin_!"

Casavir looked to the drow for support, but she was still reeling from the crack about her healing skills. Sighing, the paladin leaned over the ranger, and muttered a few words.

"Urghh…my…head…" groaned Bishop, clutching his forehead.

"Happy, wizard?"

"Oh my yes. This will do nicely. Watch and learn, paladin, _this_ is how you knock out a ranger." Sand rubbed his hands together. Humming slightly, the moon elf closed his eyes, and brought up his arms until they were level with his head. As the humming increased, Kiadra had the bright idea of moving far, far away from the wizard. Casavir had enough common sense to do the same.

Bishop was still sat groaning on the floor, oblivious to his impending doom, which was in the form of a large, floating rock.

**-CRACK-**

"Um...Sand?"

"Yes, my _dear_ Captain?"

"Is he…dead?"

Sand walked over to the unconscious form of Bishop, and nudged it gently with his foot.

"Dead? No. Severely concussed? Probably."

"One day Sand, you must show me how to-"

"There appears to be a large…cloud heading in our direction, Captain." Casavir squinted into the distance.

"Really? Most peculiar. Anyway, Sand, tell me, where exactly did you get the ro-"

"It's getting closer, Captain."

"Well, my dear girl, it all starts with the use of a simple incantat-"

"My lady, it's moving quite fast."

"Yes, yes, yes, but what I want to know is _how_ the rock got-"

"I really think we should move, Captain!"

"What are you talking about Cas-EEEEK!"

"Watch the hair, the hair!"

Kiadra clutched her head, and spat out the sand from her mouth. "_Bloody paladin" _she thought as she struggled upright from under the two men, who were busy bickering as usual (or to be fair, one was moaning at length about getting split ends, and the other was frowning intently at him). Getting rugby-tackled by an angst-ridden paladin was not nearly as fun as some people would have you believe…

She blinked. _Great, I've even got sand in my __**eyes! **_As she continued to blink furiously, Kiadra noticed something eerily different about her surroundings. Silence greeted her from every front; she peered around, wondering what her companions had been distracted by, and saw …

A man. At least, she assumed it was a man. It had a long beard, and all of the usual limb count. He wore rather dirty looking red robes, and a quite silly pointed hat. The companions (except for Bishop, who was still out of it) watched in awe as he approached. He gave them a brief look as he dashed past, kicking up a lot of the reddish sand in his haste to get away.

The 'from what' appeared a few seconds later, after the man was far into the distance (his turn of speed was, Kiadra noted, quite amazing). It was, in all senses of the word, a mob. They carried pitchforks, torches, and anything else that could be used to beat someone senseless. However, the expressions on their faces were not of anger, but of fear. They too, appeared to be running from something.

The companions watched them disappear, before Sand got up and straightened his robe.

"Well, I do not know what _that_ was all about, but in future, _dear_ Casavir, please inform me before you try any other heroic manoeuvres."

The paladin simply frowned.

"Err, guys, did, um…the thing they were all running from. It's gone past…right?" whispered Kiadra.

There was a silence, as the three companions looked around fearfully.

"Oh my…"

Another cloud of dust appeared on the horizon, much bigger than the last two. Kiadra rushed behind the only available cover (the rock Bishop had been hit with) while Sand merely hid behind the nearest human shield, who wasn't overly impressed. But then again, he was never overly impressed with anything.

Whilst trying to remain very, very still, the companions watched as the cloud grew closer, and then sprinted past them.

The companions were silent.

"Did I…just see that right?" Sand poked his head out from behind Casavir.

"A box…on…legs?" Kiadra inched her way around the rock, glancing around for any sign of the abomination.

"It's gone, my lady."

"Oh…good."

"Well, I've had just about enough of this place! My robe is covered in...sand...dirt, and gods knows what, and there a tangles in my hair that will take _hours_ of washing to undo!" moaned Sand, tearing desperately at his hairdo. Casavir looked at Kiadra, and raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, okay, we're going. Just need to find a leaf." the drow peered around the plain, looking for any signs of vegetation.

"Don't be ridiculous, _girl_, we're in a desert! There will not be any living plants here." snapped Sand, who was getting more irritable by the minute.

"My lady, look." Casavir tapped the drow on the shoulder, and pointed.

There, in the middle of the plain, was a tree.

"…this is getting ridiculous!" Sand, forever the believer in logic and that things should go bang when they're supposed to, slumped to the floor, and put his head in his hands. Kiadra patted him awkwardly on the back.

  

"Are ye sure we're in the right place, gnome?"

"Why, yes Khelgar! …I mean, well, no."

"It sure is…cramped in here." Neeshka rapped the edge of the tube the three of them were sat in. "It sounds like it's made of a metal of some kind…possibly tin."

"Perhaps we could…hammer our way out?"

"Khelgar, there are some things in life that can't be solved with hammering."

"…Really?!"

"Um, guys? We appear to have a proooblem!"

"What is it, Grobnar?"

"We're missing Qara!"

There was a brief silence.

"…how is that a problem?"

  

Qara was angry. She was also lost. (Except the sorceress never thought of it that way. She was never lost; the rest of the world was just in the wrong place.) She did not know what had happened to the rest of her 'team', but honestly, she didn't care. She was fed up with the lot of them. Always telling her what to do, what not to do. "Qara, clean the dishes." "Qara, scrub the floor." "Qara, _do not shoot that magic missile into Sand's face!_" She was her own woman, dammit, and she didn't need them. Oh no. She'd start a new life, here…where ever she was.

For the first time since she had exited the tube (by blowing it apart, of course.), Qara looked around. It should be noted that Qara is _absolutely not_ a coward. So, the whimper that escaped her lips and the rather speedy retreat that followed were _absolutely not _because of cowardice.

Definitely.

  

"I can see light up ahead!"

"Good for you, Grobnar, but unfortunately I can't because of the several acres of dwarven butt in my face!"

"Why, that would make such a _catchy_ tune…"

"Stop yer whining, tiefling, and keep crawling!"

"Oh deary me! Whatever happened here?!" sang Grobnar, as he slipped out of the end of the tube. He turned around briefly to inspect the somewhat charred remains of the exit, before a rather smelly dwarf-like cannonball hit him in the face. They collapsed into a heap on the ground.

"May the Hells take ye, tiefling!" Khelgar groaned and rolled off the gnome, who had a look of perpetual shock on his face.

"Oh, hush now, Stumpy." Neeshka slid daintily out of the tube, and walked over to where Khelgar had landed. Grobnar was looking slightly flatter than usual. Sighing slightly, the tiefling picked him up and slung him across her shoulders. "Come on, let's go find Q-"

A red haired blur sprinted pasted the two, diving head first into the tube. There was a quiet "Ouch."

Khelgar edged over, and peered inside.

"Go away!" yelled the tube. There was the sound of some-one trying to crawl faster than such a slippery surface would allow, resulting in falling flat on their face several times.

"I wonder what's got her…so…spooked…" Neeshka's eyes went very big as she surveyed their surroundings, "Eeeeeep. Khelgar! We have to move!"

The dwarf turned around; surprised by the tiefling's use of his real name, rather than 'Stumpy' 'Short-arse' and any other humorous, height-related name she could come up with.

"What's the matter, lass?"

"There's no time to explain, let's get out of-"

"Neeshka? After all this time…could it really be?" a wiry looking imp appeared in a puff of purple smoke, and snickered evilly.

"Oborus. It has not nearly been long enough." replied Neeshka coldly.

Khelgar and Qara stuck their heads out of the tube.

"Ye know him?"

"You know _her_?"

The imp snickered again. "Of course. Neeshka is an…old friend of mine."

"A business partner" the tiefling snapped, "Nothing more."

Qara rolled her eyes. "Dear gods, not _another_ one."

"I…assisted…Neeshka several years ago in her hunt, when her blood powers were strong enough to travel back and forth between this plane, and yours." the imp smirked, "Sadly, those times are no more."

"You were a pain in the arse, Oborus."

"I had my uses."

"Well, this has been fun. Now let's be g-"Qara rolled over, and began to climb back through the tube, only to find her robe had snagged on something that had zero intention of moving. The sorceress struggled fiercely, but Khelgar refused to budge.

"What hunt?" the dwarf eyed the tiefling suspiciously.

"You mean you never told them?" the imp contorted its features into a look of mock horror, "Tut-tut, Neeshka."

"Shut up! Come on Stumpy, let's get out of here." the tiefling strode towards the tube, refusing to look at the imp.

"Neeshka came to me, dwarf, because she was…lonely."

"Lonely? What d'ya mean?" Khelgar was curious. He had never seen Neeshka so flustered before, despite his best efforts.

"You say one more thing, Oborus, and I'll send this dagger right through your heart!" Neeshka whirled around, her twin blades drawn.

This only seemed to only please the imp, who grinned widely, showing rows of decayed, pointy teeth. "But come now, Neeshka, they deserve to know about your past, do they not? After all, you seem to know a lot about theirs. And the contents of their coin pouches, no doubt."

Neeshka growled. He was only guessing, she knew. But her companions didn't.

Qara stuck her head out again, face aflame. "You _looked_ in there? Those guys, you know, they're all over eighteen…"

"Shut up, Qara."

"Hmmph." the sorceress disappeared again into the tube.

"What…colourful company you keep, Neeshka." the imp said sarcastically.

"You shut up, too."

"My, my, such hostility. My dear Neeshka, you leave me with little choice. Either I tell them about your little escapade, or you do."

Neeshka glared at Oborus, and raised one of her daggers.

"Ah-hah, well, in _that_ case, I think I'll just go inform _him_ you've arrived. I'm sure he's…dying to see you again." the imp smirked, and disappeared in another puff of smoke, narrowly avoiding being hit by a speeding missile. Neeshka walked over, and pulled her dagger out of the rock wall.

"Wha-" Khelgar began.

"Just leave it, okay?"

"But-"

"I said, let it go!"

The dwarf shrugged, and looked around briefly.

"Tiefling?"

Neeshka was staring at the wall, where her blade had left a slight groove. "What?"

"What did ye do with the gnome?"

The tiefling spun around, "He was right…there…"

They both stared at the piece of ground Neeshka was pointing to. It was pretty unremarkable rock, and had a certain absence of hyper gnome.

"Bugger!"

  

Grobnar skipped happily across the Abyss, arms swinging and humming merrily as he passed the numerous souls undergoing painful and horrific torture. It was one of Grobnar's amazing traits that he always saw the good side in any situation. If the gnome saw a man getting his feet chopped off, he would automatically point out how much money that man would save because of no longer needing to buy boots. After the screaming had died out, of course.

So when Grobnar turned a particularly decaying corner, and surveyed the scene in the rocky plaza below, his first thought was "My, now that fellow can see outside the back of his head!".

However, it's doubtful that such a comment would've made the man feel any better, because he was dead. He probably appreciated the thought, though.

"No, no, NO! The point is to _keep_ the victim alive, otherwise how do you continue to torture them?!" A huge balor stood over the unfortunate man, his huge wings unfurling behind him as he addressed a slightly smaller, but no less terrifying demon.

"But…sir…I canst torture 'em properly withou' killing 'em, they is too weak, they is!"

The bigger balor sighed, and banged his head on one of the many rocky outcrops in frustration, causing a large tremor that swept the awe-struck Grobnar off his feet.

"And what do we have here?" the demon looked more than a little surprised to see the gnome, who sat up, grinning madly.

"Why, I'm Grobnar Gnomehands, of course!" he cried, springing up and producing the Wenderkazoo from his pack in one, fluid movement. Or at least, mimed it.

The balor laughed, a huge belly-laugh that caused the plaza itself to shake. The other demon, presumably at a loss at what to do, simply sniggered.

"Well, Grobnar Gnomehands, I can plainly see that _you_ are not dead. What brings you to the Abyss?"

"I'm on a scavenger hunt," Grobnar beamed, "Could you help me?"

The two balors exchanged looks of surprise, before the larger demon reached down and scooped up the still grinning madly gnome, holding him carefully in the palm of his giant clawed hand. The smaller balor simply shook his head, and pushed a button under the stone tablet the 'man' had been laid on. The tablet pivoted upwards, causing the deceased to slide gently off it and into a bag marked "Out".

"I'm sure I could, little one. Before that, however, you will tell me how you managed to get all the way down here on your tiny lonesome."

"Oh, that's silly! I didn't come here on my own, oh no. I came here with the rest of my team! You haven't seen them, have you?"

"Your...team?"

"Yes,yes! I am the Leader, of course. Being the most competent and sensible of the party!"

The balor appeared to think carefully about his next statement.

"I…see…"

"And then there's my second in command, Khelgar. He's a dwarf, you know. Bears a remarkable resemblance to a keg of severely gone-off beer! At least, that's what Neeshka says. She's very, very tall! But then again, everyone is very tall, compared to me." Grobnar beamed and carried on rambling at high speed,"She's a tiefling. There's also Qara, but she's very grumpy and no-one likes her re-"

"….Neeshka? You travel with a tiefling named…Neeshka?" The balor straightened up, and peered around the plaza, as if he was searching for something.

"Yes! Why, do you know her?"

Sometimes Grobnar's brain can run very slow indeed.

The demon ignored him, "What would you say, Grobnar Gnomehands, if I invited you to a temporary seat beside my infernal throne?"

Grobnar appeared to think about this.

"I'd ask if it comes in maroon."

  

"We're looooost!"

"Look, we followed that succubus' instructions exactly. Keep following the same 'Gods-forsaken Path' until we reach the 'Damned-if-I know-what-it's-called Canyon', then take a hard left at the big rock shaped like Drizzt Do'Urden…"

"We've passed that rock six times already!"

"Will you two shut up?! I'm _trying_ to concentrate!" yelled Neeshka, as she glared at her two companions, who suddenly became engrossed in their footwear. She sighed, and closed her eyes.

A few moments passed, which included a lot of awkward fidgeting on the part of Khelgar and Qara, before Neeshka opened her eyes and pointed in a seemingly random direction.

"That way."

  

After hours of endless searching, falling into pits, and dragging Khelgar away from the many, many succubi, the three remaining members of Team Gnomehands found themselves at their latest and most terrifying challenge.

A gate.

(It was quite a nice gate. Very gothic. It would have been almost tasteful if it didn't have "You don't have to be infernally damned to work here - but it helps!" plastered across it.)

"I suppose we could always…climb over it."

"Are ye blind? Look how tall this damned thing is! There's no way in the hells I could ever get up there. And nobody tosses a dwarf!"

"Why on Faerun does a balor need a front gate anyway? The demons could just _fly_ over!"

"That's not the point, Qa-Hey! Tiefling!"

Neeshka had already reached the top, swung herself over and was sprinting away.

The two companions stood in quiet contemplation for a minute.

Until Qara rolled her eyes and walked round the gate, through the non-existent fence. Khelgar followed her.

"Like I said, absolutely _pointless._"

  

"And so _that_ is how I finally convinced the Captain to let me rebuild the spring-mounted mechanical cod-piece, except of course there were a _few _complications when Khelgar wanted to try i-"

**-CRASH-**

"Put your talons up and step away from my gnome!" Neeshka came crashing through the large wooden door that separated the throne room from the rest of the Abyss. It was, actually, the only thing that was doing the separating. (Balors don't really have a concept of _walls_.)

The various demons perched around Grobnar's 'throne' (a large cushion, which had the word's "Please don't eat the Gnome" floating above it) looked up in surprise, except for a solitary succubus, who was trying desperately to comb the gnome's hair, to no avail.

"Hellooo, Neeshka! Look at all of the new friends I've made!" Grobnar lept up from his seat and ran towards the tiefling, dragging the terrified-looking succubus along by the comb.

The demons around the throne burst into conversation.

"Neeshka?"

"That Neeshka?"

"But I thought she'd lost her powers?"

The tiefling glared them all into silence. She paused.

"Where. Is. He?" Neeshka spat each word out, her voice echoing the anger in her eyes.

The succubus who was still struggling with her comb, started to say "Who?" before she was cut off by the sudden removal of her head.

Neeshka resheathed her daggers.

"I'm not in the mood for games, okay? Tell me where that bastard is or-"

As one man, (or, more appropriately, demon) the group around the throne looked upwards.

The tiefling followed their gaze and stifled a gasp.

"Neeshka, Neeshka, Neeshka." the balor, who had been hanging upside down from a handy rock, unfolded his wings, and stretched. Silently, he loosened his grip and dropped down, landing neatly in front of her. "Is that _really_ any way to address your grandfather?"

Something in Grobnar's brain went 'click'.

"Ohhh…"

  

"And this is your great-great-aunt Beatrice. She works over in the Ironic Punishment sector, and there's a funny story about that but you wouldn't want to hear it…"

"Oh, oh, I dooo!" Grobnar looked up for his place on the balor's left knee, peered over the top of the gigantic photo album and smiled manically.

Neeshka, who was sat on the right knee, simply glared furiously at the other demons that were wandering around, as if daring them to laugh. A few succubi who had giggled in passing now found themselves missing several vital organs.

"Well, it all started when Beatrice's second cousin – twice removed, you know, terrible scandal – decided that they needed a huge, inflatable p-"

"GRANDFATHER!"

"…Pair of maracas."

"That's better, although not by much."

"Huh?" Grobnar looked confused. The balor patted him awkwardly on the head.

There was the sound of raised voices, ringing across the chasm.

"What do ye mean, she can't go in?! Do ye _know_ who she is?! She's Qarina, the most famous sorceress on the Sword Coast…hells, maybe even from across the whole of damn Faerun!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but this area is _not _part of the tour and I can't really-"

"She's been to places that ye only know from nightmares!"

"…Nightmares?"

"Yeah. The ones where ye wake up in the middle of the night and there's this damned big puddle of-"

"I'm truly sorry sir, but she cannot be allowed in!"

"Listen, buddy, ye like yer face, right?"

"Er, well, yes, I suppose so…"

"So, I imagine ye would think too kindly to a fireball in it, eh?"

"No sir!"

"Ah, I thought so… GET THIS BLOODY DOOR OPEN THEN!"

"Um, if her greatness would just hold on for one second-"

"That'd better be all it is, mister, or they're gonna be pickin' up yer remains with a toothpick…"

A terrified imp, wearing a bright red shirt with a badge saying "Hi! My name is Laraminionious, ask me about our Family Damnation Deals!" stuck his head round the Throne Room door.

"Sorry to bother you, your terribleness, but there's a…powerful sorceress out here who wants to see you and-"

The imp fell forward, propelled by a boot to the backside complementary of Khelgar, disappearing in a puff of red smoke just before hitting the floor. The words "Tell your friend's to ask for Larry!" glowed in the air faintly where the imp had vanished.

The dwarf scurried in after, followed by the sorceress, who was inspecting the surroundings with a look of disgust. Her hair had been unpinned, and she was wearing huge, bug-eye style glasses, and a feather boa.

The balor sighed dramatically, placed Neeshka and Grobnar back onto the cushion, and swung its legs over the side of its huge throne. The newcomers appeared oblivious, busy bickering amongst themselves.

"Gods, Khelgar, do you have no sense of _style_? That is _not_ how a world-famous sorceress announces herself." Qara flung her arm out dramatically, nearly knocking out a demon who had made the mistake of getting too close.

"You're not really famous, ye know that right? And give me back my damn boa!"

"Give me back my damn boa, _ma'am_."

"Shut up! Let's just get those bleedin' two and get the hell out of…this…dump…" Khelgar looked up. And up. "…Bugger."

"Khelgar! Cooeee! It's me!" Grobnar bounced upright, and started waving crazily at the dwarf.

The balor looked at the dwarf expectantly. "I suppose you'll be wanting to…ahem…_save_ them now, correct?"

Khelgar swallowed. Qara started to fiddle nervously with the end of her hair, before she remembered herself, twirling her staff around until it was pointed directly at the balor's face. He yawned and pointedly inspected his talons for human remains. Khelgar heard the sorceress begin to mutter angrily under her breath, and edged away slowly.

A fireball burst into existence above Qara's head and soared gracefully across the room. The balor rolled his eyes, and gently blew on the roaring missile. The flames went out instantly, and the ball fell to the floor with a "phut".

"Is that _really _the best you've got?" the balor grinned wickedly.

"GRANDFATHER!" Neeshka stood up, hands on hips. "Gods, I can't take you _anywhere_!"

The demon's eye's widened in shock, and he found his mouth acting on its own accord – instructions seeming to miss his head altogether.

"I'm sorry, sugarkins…"

"SUGARKINS? Hey, Khelgar, lets record this! _Demonz _will pay good money for it…"

"'Demonz'?"

"It's Ammon's favourite magazine. I found it under his bed when we - I mean, after I had finished um, borrowing a spellbook. Yeah."

Khelgar edged even further away, until he was level with Neeshka, who was having a heated argument with her grandfather. Grobnar sat between the two, tongue stuck out from thinking too hard.

"They're my _friends_! Why couldn't you just let them set you on fire?!"

"They are a bad influence on you, Neeshka. Why can't you be friends with Oborus again? He was such a nice imp. I remember when you two were inseparable, joined at the hip, as it were…"

"_That_ was because that stupid twerp can't cast _Cobwebs_ properly!"

"Neeshka, I won't have you using that language in my house!"

"Dears gods, you won't let me say _twerp_?! You don't understand me! No-one does!" Neeshka began to stride towards the open-mouthed Khelgar, dragging Grobnar along with her.

"Neeshka, dear…" The balor reached out to her, before stopping to stare at his hand; not quite sure what it was doing there. But Neeshka was already at the door, Grobnar under one arm, Khelgar under the other, and a rather peeved Qara hanging onto her tail.

She paused at the door, and turned around.

"You're ruining my life!"

**-SLAM-**


	3. The Search Continues

Sisanae's Note:

Well. This took an awfully long time, didn't it? I really do apologise ) The ending will not take as long, I swear!

Extra thanks to Llrael and MorningGloryDruid for being my editors, and to all the wonderful people who offered. :)

This one's for the Shirtless Guys and Gals - lovely people, all of you! )

So enjoy, at last, Chapter 3 of Deja Vu :)

Edited a little for small pointers. Any others would be appreciated, as would reviews:)

* * *

_The author would like to point out that they in no way condone the cruel ravaging of vegetables. Ravaging rangers, on the other hand, is entirely supported, especially seeing as the poor thing spends one of the following scenes emotionally banging their head against a tree. He did try physically, but unfortunately did not take well to certain… Squirrel Problems._

* * *

_A few hours of several unimaginative portals later..._

"Bag of flammable troll hair?!"

"…Check."

"Imaginative and humorous top-hat?!"

"_Shut up_, you stupid little gno-OW!"

"_Casavir!_"

"Sorry, Captain."

"Oh no, I didn't mean about that – I was going to ask if we have the hat."

"Oh…yes. Hat. Check."

"He hit me!"

"No-one likes a tell-tale, Bishop. Shush."

"Potion of Stupidity?"

"Yes. At great personal risk, I might add."

"Saaaaaaand! What do you saaaaaay?!"

The wizard sighed, "And _why_ should I do that, oh gnome of the non-existent brain?"

"That's not _fair_! Sand gets to insult people, but whenever I-"

**-SMACK-**

"I fear you may have hit him a little _too_ hard, Casavir."

"I have been too good to him, my lady."

Kiadra paused. "That's certainly a _unique_ viewpoint. Anyway, carry on, Grobby!"

"Oh. Um. Yes! Potion of Stupidity?!"

"…_Dear gods_…Check."

"Okay! Put it on the pile, then! Silly Sand! Oooh, allet-…allit-…wheeee!"

"Yes ,yes, here it is you – hmm. That's odd. It was certainly here a moment ago…" Sand got up from his seat by the door, and began searching under the various magical artefacts that littered his desk. The companions had decided to use his room as what the Gnome called the "Secret Base", because it was "unlikely the opposing team would risk certain death; either by book avalanches or discovering the contents of Sand's sock drawers". Neeshka and Khelgar were outside on lookout (which really meant shouting at anyone who came within five hundred meters of the room, or whenever this wasn't an option, at each other), and Qara was sat in the corner, muttering to herself. When she saw the wizard move, however, the sorceress stood up at a speed Kiadra thought impossible, grinning insanely.

"Looking for something, Sandikins?" she cooed, waving an empty potion bottle in his direction.

"Oh dear." Kiadra sighed dramatically, reaching into her pack to produce a large, leather bound book. Calmly, the drow turned to a seemingly random page, and started to read, whilst Grobnar began to hum merrily.

_When summoning demons, it is vitally important that you make sure the circle is fire-proof… _

"You idiot girl! What, dare I ask, have you done with the potion I spent _hours_ slaving over?!"

_..Many who have tried without said protection have found themselves accidentally swept off the floor by their assistants the following day…_

Qara giggled, "Liar! You bought it off the merchant outside!"

Kiadra looked up from her book, paused, and then looked, wide-eyed at Sand.

"You bought it from _Deekin_?!"

Now it was Sand's turn to smile evilly.

"I bought _a _potion from that illiterate kobold, yes." he drawled, reaching into the folds of his robe and producing a rather empty potion bottle. The words "Poition of Stopedity" were scrawled across its grubby and torn label.

Kiadra looked at Sand, at the bottle he was holding, and then at Qara, and the bottle she was holding. Realization dawned as she leant back in her chair, a look of intense dread on her face.

"Oh noo…"

Qara giggled childishly.

  

"Okay, look, let's go over it again. This is _Bishop_, okay? B-I-S-H-O-P! Not, and I say this with the deepest regret, a lavatory." Kiadra sighed wistfully, and hit the gagged and bound ranger briefly on the head. "Got that?! Now repeat after me, 'From this day forward…'"

"From this day forward…" Qara and Sand chorused, from their seats behind the wizard's desk.

"I will not use him…"

"I will not use him…heehee, that sounds _naughty_-OW!"

"Sand! Don't hit Qara!"

"But…but…she was rude, Kiaaadra!"

"That may be so, but we keep our hands, arms, and other protruding limbs to _ourselves_, Sand."

"Hah-hah! Sand got told ooofff!"

"Yes, well…at least I don't have…rounded ears!"

"By Lliira…I can't take this any longer. CASAVIR!"

"My lady?"The paladin stuck his head round the door of Sand's bedroom, ducking quickly to avoid being hit by a large rubber duck.

Kiadra strode up to him, grabbing the collar of his training tunic and gave him a pleading look. "Help…Me!"

Casavir sighed, and strolled into the middle of the room, a rather hefty looking book tucked under his right arm. The drow, spotting a chance of escape, ran out of the door, pulling it just far enough behind her so that she could still see what was going on, whilst being safe from any flying barnyard animals. She had always known Qara to be practically skipping along the thin line of sanity, but to see Sand in such a state distressed Kiadra very much. He had been the only member of her party whom she could have a sensible, un-Old Owl Well related conversation with.

She relaxed onto the chair Casavir had previously been sitting on, and reached into her pack to pull out another large leather book, which she laid across her knees and turned to Chapter Three: "Spring-mounted Armour Shields for Orc-Brains"

_Ah well. If you can't beat them, join them. _

Sand and Qara went silent as the paladin took his place in front of them. He coughed curtly, causing fear to cross both of their faces, and the sorceress in particular to try to cover her ears with the ends of her robe. A few strained seconds passed before she lost her balance, and fell backwards off her chair.

"OWWW!"

Casavir sighed again.

_She doesn't pay me enough for this._

"Qara fell off! Qara fell off!" Sand sang, rocking from side to side on his chair gleefully.

_Wait…she doesn't pay me at all. Curses._

The paladin raised his eyes heavenward, and, with great care and precision, slammed his book hard on the table.

When Kiadra's ears had stopped ringing, the drow noticed with intense glee that the two were now deathly silent, eyes glued upon Casavir, who glared fiercely at them both. Qara had somehow regained verticality, and seemed to now be fighting the urge to start playing drums on Sand's head. Her hands kept moving towards the wizard, before Casavir would cough meaningfully, causing them to fly miraculously back into her lap. This continued for several minutes, before Casavir slammed his book down again.

"Now listen to me, and listen well." The paladin leaned closer to the now terrified two, and lowered his voice to a whisper, "I'm going to do to you what the priests of Tyr used to do to me when I had been _bad_."

Sand looked up at Casavir, wide eyed, his voice merely a hush.

"What did you _dooo_?!

Casavir locked eyes with the wizard, and moved forward until his face was level with the elf's. He started to whisper quickly, and despite however much Kiadra craned (even risking possible concussion by poking her head around the sanctity of the door frame) she couldn't make out what the paladin was saying. She could only watch, as the moon elf's face contorted into disgust and turn a particularly interesting shade of green, as Qara began to squeal in terror. Casavir leaned back, a new found glint in his blue eyes as he coughed one again, causing the twosome to sit back to rigid attention, gulping in perfect unison.

"Now, do I have your complete attention?"

Elf and girl heads nodded hastily.

"Right. You two are going to sit here, in absolute silence, until either Kiadra or I come to check on how you are doing." Casavir strode across the room to the door, causing Kiadra to quickly bury herself in the book. "Do you have any questions?"

Sand raised a hand timidly, "Is...that our punishment?"

The paladin raised one eyebrow. "Oh no. That comes _later._" he shut the door calmly behind him.

Kiadra looked up at the paladin.

"You're never going to tell me, are you?"

Casavir smiled his little half smile.

"Never, my lady." he offered his hand to help her stand up, and the two began to walk down the corridor together. "May I ask you one question, however?"

"But of course."

"Is it difficult to read, when your book is upside down?"

  

"Jump for the muffin, Ammon, jump!"

"May the hells take you!" the warlock boomed, or at least, tried to. Due to his current predicament, however, it came out as more of an irritated squeak.

"Awww, ish ickle Ammon gwumpy?"

"…I despise you!"

"Harrumph. Ye can join the club."

"Aww, but he's so cute when he's angry! Look, his little arms move up and down and –"

A miniscule black orb, barely larger than a pin head, flew at the smirking Neeshka's forehead, where it exploded, showering her nose in little black sparks. She giggled.

"Hahaha, that _tickled_ !"

"Why you-!"

"Don't tease Jerro, Neeshka." Kiadra stepped into the Library, holding the door open for Casavir who was barely visible under the large pile of spell books he was carrying. He nimbly dodged Bishop's outstretched foot, pausing briefly to accidentally drop one of the books on the ranger's head, before continuing to deposit the rest on one of the Library's many large wooden desks. He nodded to Aldanon, who was steadily reading his way through the growing pile. The sage gibbered quietly.

"I do _not_ need you to defend me, girl!" Ammon scowled at the drow, crossing his arms indignantly. It was quite hard for a six inch man to look dominantly terrifying, but Ammon Jerro managed it.

"Don't worry, Jerro, they say size doesn't matter." sneered Bishop, throwing the book back at the paladin who was busy reading. Casavir, in one flawless movement, caught it in midair and threw it casually over his shoulder onto the rest of the pile, eyes never leaving the page in front of him._ Bastard, _Bishop thought.

"You would know, ranger." Neeshka nudged Khelgar, who erupted into laughter.

"Eh-heh-heh. Funny." Bishop replied, oozing his own sophisticated form of sarcasm. "Look, this is getting us _nowhere_. Just leave the stupid warlock, and let's go finish this damn Skalager Hunt or whatever the hell it is so I can go KILL something!"

Everyone, including Casavir and Aldanon, who had appeared to have returned to the realm of sanity at least temporarily, turned to look at Bishop. In the silence that followed, Casavir walked over to the Captain, picked her up around the waist, and gently moved her several further feet away from the ranger. He bowed to her.

"Apologies, my lady, but I fear that his stupidity may be contagious."

"A-HAH!" There was a cry of triumph from the sage, as he leapt up, knocking over his desk. Bishop irritably closed his mouth, which had been forming one of his usual sardonic comebacks, and yawned sarcastically. No-one noticed.

"You've found something?" Kiadra bent over Aldanon's shoulder, as the tiny warlock fired another black orb at Neeshka, who was still giggling madly.

"Yes!" the sage grinned manically, "In order to reverse the young mage's shrinking spell, other than to just wait for it to wear off –"

"Not bloody likely," Ammon scowled, deeply regreting ever leaving his room earlier that day - being greeted by an "even more sense-deprived than usual" cackling Qara armed with a height reducing spell was _not_ his ideal start.

"- Is to do a rather…complicated looking ritual, as described in these pages." Aldanon jabbed a finger dramatically at the open page on front of him. Kiadra squinted, trying to make out the bizarre diagrams and peculiar letterings scrawled across the page. She looked at the still beaming sage doubtfully.

"Are you sure about th-"

The door of the Library banged dramatically open, causing the hinges to fly off, rebound off the top of Khelgar's head, and land with a giant _splosh_ into the sage's water goblet.

"I do wish people would stop doing that," Aldanon sighed wistfully.

"KI-AAAH-DRAAAH!" a missile flew into the room, skimming over the heads of Bishop, Neeshka and Khelgar (flying far, far over the head of the still scowling Ammon Jerro) and landing in a flurry of parchment beside Casavir, who eyed it suspiciously.

"Hullo, Grobnar."

The gnome sprang upright in another whirlwind of paper, some of which flew far above, only to lazily drift back down onto the paladin's head. He moved his eyes upward to get a better look at the offending page, before blowing on it half-heartedly. Kiadra stood on her tip-toes and gently removed it, causing Bishop to snort excessively. They chose to ignore this, and the choking noises that followed as Khelgar punched the ranger in the gut.

"I have found it! The last item we need!" Grobnar bounced up and down happily.

Kiadra looked at the little bard, and considered this. She spent a few moments carefully formulating her next sentence.

"You _actually_ have, quite definitely, _in your possession, _the _precise_ item which we need in order to _win_ the competition we are having, _right now_, with Riverguard Keep?"

Grobnar paused his celebration, and seemed to think about this.

"Well…not as _such._"

The entire room erupted into a series of groans, sighs and eye-rolls.

"However I _do_ have directions to its…location!" The gnome beamed again. A cheer went up from the party. Kiadra however, who had been close enough to notice the smaller bard's hesitation, knelt down until her eyes were level with Grobnar's.

"Its _precise_ location?" she asked sweetly.

The gnome looked doubtfully at the slip of parchment he was holding. "Sort…of."

Bishop practically jumped out of the chair he had be lounging on.

"That's good enough for me! C'mon, half-pint, let's go get this thing!" The ranger, eager to get out of research duty, grabbed his new companion, threw him roughly over one shoulder, and bounded dramatically out of the Library door.

Kiadra counted silently in her head.

_1...2...3...4...5…_

The door flew open again, and a stony-faced Bishop re-entered, crossed the floor, snatched a slip of paper out of the un-resisting Captain's hand and walked back out again. The door slammed shut behind him, and Neeshka burst out laughing.

_1…2…3…_

"I heard that, goat-girl!" there was the sound of stamping feet.

"They're not going to get far."

"Why?" Kiadra looked at the tiefling, who smirked.

"Because I just pick-pocketed Bishop's _only_ map."

There was a cry of out rage from down the corridor.

  

_And so, the brave and newly reformed Team Gnomehands set out once more on their valiant quest through the forests of a strange and distance world, led by their dedicated, and glorious leader Grobnar the Bard, whom graciously accepted the company of - _

"For god's sake, Gnome, if you don't shut up soon you're gonna get an arrow through the forehead!"

Grobnar looked slightly offended, before shrugging and puffing out his chest again, resuming the loud booming voice he used for all adventurous narration.

_- the disgruntled, and extremely rude Sir Bishop of Grumpyville and -_

The ranger cocked an arrow threateningly at the gnome, who let out a high-pitched squeak before hiding behind their other companion…

"Ha-ha, _grumpy_! Man, that's good!"

_-the sympathetic and skilled Lady Neeshka of Neverwinter, friend to all creatures __**below**__ four feet –_

"Sympathetic, my arse." Bishop snorted, "And _skilled_? That demon wench isn't fit to scrub my bo-!"

There was a _shlink_ of blades being drawn, and the ranger found himself pinned against a nearby tree with Neeshka gently pressing a dagger flat against his throat, her eyes shining brightly.

"You were saying?" she asked pleasantly. Bishop glared at her. She matched it. There was a moment of absolute stillness as the two stood locked in a silent battle of gazes. Grobnar shifted uneasily, and began to hum a little tune.

Progression, alteration, change – all inaccurate words to describe the movement of the scene in front of the bard. The gnome tried tapping, drumming and even singing, but his two companions still remained unmoved. Having the attention span of a teaspoon, Grobnar looked at the map he, as determined and sophisticated leader, had been entrusted with. Miles of forest, miles of bogs, miles of mountains. All to find an artefact even the optimistic and ever so trusting Grobnar slightly doubted existed. It didn't seem right, he theorised, that such a high-profile magical power source (Grobnar wasn't entirely sure what a 'high-profile magical power source' actually _was_, but it sounded jolly impressive, anyway.) would have such a long, silly, and totally un-rhyme able name as it did. Clearly its inventor didn't think enough about the poor bard's who would have to _write_ about these types of things. Grobnar let out a little sigh and rolled the name round his tongue, hoping that inspiration may take it upon itself to strike, or maybe that normal rhyming rules had decided to take a spontaneous holiday.

Really, whoever had decided to make a '_Codpiece of Ultimate Power'_ was very foolish, indeed.

  

The Library of Crossroad Keep hummed with the essence of magic. Daeghun Farlong watched from his spot beneath a large oak tree, a safe distance away from its glowing windows. He had arrived only a little while ago from his travels around the Mere, and a short enquiry of a local farmer on what exactly it was his foster daughter was doing in there had revealed "something _myffic_, not doubt. She's a smart lass but if you value your head, good sir, then stay away when that one's a-casting. Last week she nearly blew the entire Keep to pieces she did - if it weren't for that clever elf fellow, you know, the one in the dress, we'd be nothing yet a pile of ash, my lad Truman said…" and so on. Whilst Daeghun had complete faith in his daughter and her handle on the world of the 'myffic', and indeed, would challenge anyone who would say that she had none, he had decided to 'watch from afar', as it were. He still shuddered at the memory of the time he had tried to teach Kiadra to light the candles in her room by spell alone – the elf had seen many terrible things in his time, but the memory of horrific and malformed…_creature_ that his daughter had accidentally summoned from the nether regions of the hells prevented him from getting sleep for many, many months.

"Alector! Lit-ali! Crulat!"

The Library windows flashed green, and the courtyard was sound like the humming of hundreds of bees.

"Steh-fen-doh! Nagaroth!"

There was a small explosion, breaking a pane of glass as something small yet rotund flew through it, closely followed by a shower of rainbow coloured sparks and the roaring of several small eruptions of flame. Khelgar sprang upright, cursing and limping as he crossed the courtyard back into the Keep, barely giving Daeghun a second glance. The elf watched the dwarf slam his way through the Keep's main doors, and then moved forward cautiously, curious as to why the stream of casting from the Library had momentarily ceased. From his new, less secure position behind a semi-built trebuchet (he would ask her what she was planning to do with _that_ later…) Daeghun could just see through the thick smoke, someone's silhouette, shining brightly from the effects of its magic. The spell-caster was bent down, Daeghun presumed in order to get a closer look at the book they were casting from. One yellow-glowing hand reached up to their head, and briefly scratched it. The elf smiled, and walked calmly, yet swiftly, backwards.

"…Jellywelly?"

There was the sound of which Daeghun could only describe as a backwards sneeze, succeeded by a huge explosion of blue that caused the elven ranger's ears to ring as the other surviving windows of the Library were smashed, either by the force of the blast or by the ensuing hurricane of furniture and books that were propelled at high speeds across the courtyard, one particular volume skimming smoothly past his head before burying itself deeply into the stone wall behind him. Trees were upended; doors were demolished by an onslaught of Githyanki Rhyming Dictionaries, and one unlucky Greycloak found himself swept off his feet and planted upside down on the top of the newly rebuilt Wizards Tower. As suddenly as it begun, the apocalyptic weather stopped, and Daeghun slowly and carefully stood up, narrowly avoiding being hit by the falling Greycloak. Other heads of Crossroad Keep's finest workers and bravest soldiers peeped over the top of their hiding places, all eyes fixed intently upon what remained of the Library's wall.

A voice filtered down from inside.

"I think your pronunciation could do with a _little_ work, my lady."

Daegun nodded, more to himself than anyone else. He had made another silent decision.

He would go talk with his daughter sometime…later.

  

"_Ooooh_, good morning to thee darling sparrow. Good morning to thee mighty tree!"

"_Shut. Up_."

"It's no use, ranger. He's been at it for hours."

"Good morning to thee pretty sunrise, good morning to thee lowly bee!"

Bishop scowled and rolled over, wrapping his tattered blanket around him. He was not a happy ranger. He had been having a very enjoyable dream about removing a certain paladin's knighthood and he was _very_ displeased to have been woken. He shifted again and frowned defiantly at the sky, which was notable because there was a distinct absence of a sun. Or any light, for that matter. It was in fact, the middle of the night. Bishop groaned as the gnome picked up his song again, and desperately tried to clamp his vambraces across his ears.

"Good morning to thee sleepy tiefling, good morning to thee lovely sea!" Grobnar skipped around the clearing they had set up camp in, addressing the inhabitants of the forest with intense glee. He jumped happily over the rock that was thrown haphazardly at his shins, seemingly unbothered.

Bishop cursed loudly, and sat upright. "You stupid gnome, we are no way near any damn sea!"

"Not even a river, really." Neeshka murmured from her heap of blankets. The rogue was not a fan of mornings, either.

"Oh good morning, good morning, good morning to thee_-ahh!_"

There was a huge crash, and a series of pain-induced noises from the now-revealed bear-trap.

Bishop smirked smugly.

  

Kiadra was trying hard to remain very, very still. She opened her eyes a tiny fraction, and looked intently at the Library ceiling. The bard's eyes flickered briefly with disgust as she noticed the piece of jam-covered toast stuck directly above her. _Wizards, _she thought. He can damn well scrub it off himself this time-

There was the stamp of boots on cobbled floor. The drow tensed and quickly shut her eyes, realising instantaneously that that was a _very_ foolish mistake. Kiadra felt the air move to her left, and the clink of plate mail suggested that the newcomer was kneeling down. She held her breath.

"My lady, you can't pretend to be dead _forever_."

The drow did not move. Her cheeks began to take on a slight reddish tint as she continued not to breathe.

Casavir chuckled and looked over his shoulder. Ammon was engrossed in caustiously scraping the green gunge from his clothes, cursing wildly, while Aldanon was pouring bucket after bucket of freezing water over Khelgar's head, ignoring the dwarf's yells as they tried desperately to put out the magical fire burning up his beard. All of these side-effects to his Captain's…interesting magical skills. He turned back to Kiadra, and tapped her lightly on the shoulder.

"You are only making this worse for yourself."

Still she did not move. Casavir let out a little sigh as her lips began to turn a peculiar shade of blue.

_Well. If that's the way you want to play it._

He turned around, ducking to avoid being hit by an empty water bucket, and walked over to the still cursing Ammon Jerro. Kiadra cracked open an eye, watching as the paladin bent down and began to have a heated discussion with the miniature warlock. She strained her ears, but the paladin knew his Captain well enough to keep his voice at a very low whisper. Shifting slightly to get a better view (and still holding her breath), the bard suppressed a laugh as the warlock crossed his arms and began to shake his head vigorously. Casavir gave him a Look, and picked the very resisting warlock up until he was level with the paladin's un-amused face. The drow hastily slammed her eyes shut, and strained her ears even further as the whispering got faster. Once again, she heard the familiar _clunk, clunk_ of the paladin's boots as she stopped by her, and a sudden soft _thump_ as a light weight fell on her stomach. She carefully opened the eye furthest away from Casavir, and peered curiously at whatever he had dropped on her. Her eyes widened in shock as she saw the figure of one very angry warlock, who glared furiously at her before…

**-THUNK-**

Kiadra cursed loudly as the breath was blasted from her body. She thumped the floor, as the force from Ammon's own demonic version of _Bigby's Crushing Hand_ hit every nerve, sending shocks up and down her spine as she gasped for breath. The warlock slapped his hands together, stepping curtly off the drow's heaving form and onto the floor, making his way over to Khelgar, who was being comforted by the sage as he despaired over the new hole in his beard. Casavir gave him a little kick him as he walked past, sending the warlock skidding rather ungracefully across the floor. Ignoring Ammon's screeches, he knelt down and gave a short prayer to Tyr, raising his now glowing hands over Kiadra, who stopped gasping as the spell began to take effect.

There was an awkward pause.

"My lady…?"

Kiadra glared at him.

The toast fell unceremoniously onto her head.

  

Team Gnomehands walked in silence.

"And then, the lady said to me, a humongous mushroom fell out of the sky and crushed her betrothed…"

Well, for a given value of silence.

"But that was nothing compared to the legend of the Giant Marrow of Thay, which ravaged innocent vegetables …"

"…Which reminds me of that funny little limerick I heard whilst hanging upside down from a flagpole, which is also a humorous story as well…"

Bishop's eye continued to twitch. To say it was a mere twitch, however, is an understatement. It was more of an entire half face spasm, meaning that while one side looked normal (that is to say, extremely annoyed) the other was dancing the fandango of face twitches.

He scrabbled madly around his person for an arrow to shoot through a certain gnome's eye, realising with deep remorse that Neeshka had been _very _thorough with her confiscation of anything even remotely dangerous. Bishop half-considered bashing the bard repeatedly with his shoe, but decided that the resulting mess would cause far too much trouble than it was worth. Although the Captain was by no means a tracker, she had the advantage of a mule's stubbornness – and if she didn't catch him, then there was no denying that the paladin definitely would, and would not pause in removing from Bishop the very things that made his existence bearable…

Existing, for one.

There was a squeal from around the ranger's waist, which can be a bit off-putting when one is contemplating being furiously smote. Repeatedly.

"We're he-ee-re!" squeaked Grobnar, managing to stretch syllables far beyond their natural length as they entered another small clearing.

Neeshka rubbed her eyes, and yawned. "Already?"

The gnome bowed his head, a rare sombre expression on his face. Bishop snorted, leaning against a non-squirrel infested tree with his arms crossed, whereas the tiefling watched Grobnar with vague, tiredness-induced fascination. He seemed to be concentrating intently on a piece of ground just beside his boots.

"…Ye-es." the gnome's head suddenly snapped back up. "Yes...the colour…"

Bishop narrowed his eyes, "What?"

Grobnar held up a hand to silence him. The ranger narrowed his eyes further.

"I think…"

"Yes?" Bishop tapped his foot irritably.

"That…"

Neeshka, having already made a fair guess as to what was to come, made herself comfortable on a nearby boulder. The tiefling closed her eyes, trying to block out the inevitable…

"My boots are an awfully dull colour."

Bishop screamed and launched himself at Grobnar, who squealed and ran as fast as his little legs would carry him. Neeshka watched in amusement as the ranger chased the gnome round and round the small clearing, yelling abuse and waving his arms in a crazed manner that would've made Aldanon proud. They had only made a few laps before the tiefling got bored, and, whistling, she casually stuck out her leg. Grobnar, who was practically leaping in his haste to get away, skimmed gracefully over.

Bishop, however, was not so lucky.

"Oh, dear." Neeshka laughed cheerfully, giving the ranger's fallen body a good kick. He swore loudly, even when slightly muffled by the dirt, but made no move to get up. The tiefling turned her attention to Grobnar, who was hiding inside a berry bush that was less than half of his size.

"Grobby, we've been walking for _days_. How far is it now?" she kicked Bishop again for emphasis, causing the gnome to flinch and try to make himself even smaller.

When the ranger did not spring in his general direction, Grobnar stood up awkwardly. Very carefully, the gnome untangled himself from the bush and slowly, keeping as much distance from Bishop as possible, edged round the clearing until he was safely behind Neeshka. Keeping his eyes on the ranger's back, he motioned for her to lean in closer and whispering so quietly that it almost surpassed even the tiefling's acute hearing, said "We're here…"

Bishop stirred. It seemed that he had quite good hearing, after all. He slowly began to pick himself up.

Grobnar sighed, cried "Oh well.", and did a running jump back into his berry bush.

After a few false starts, involving mud, muddled bowstrings and an _awful_ lot of cursing, Bishop stood up, and stuck one hand expectantly in front of Neeshka. The tiefling stared at it.

"Yes?"

The ranger made a few grabbing movements with his empty hand.

Neeshka furrowed her eyebrows at him.

"Map." he mumbled.

The tiefling pointed at the suspiciously still berry bush, out of which the top of Grobnar's hair was sticking out.

"We could be here for a very long time," Neeshka shifted her weight and pulled a bottle out of her pack, expertly flicking the cork out with a satisfying _pop_, "Care for some of Khelgar's Birthday ale?"

_A little while later..._

**-HIC-**

Neeshka tried to focus her somewhat hazy vision. As far as she could tell she had all the necessary limbs, but she had a strange gut feeling something was wrong - she was sure there weren't supposed to be _twelve_ suns…

_What in the hells does the dwarf put in this stuff…Absinthe?!"_

She groaned, and rooted through her pack again, pulling out a rather smaller bottle. She fumbled with the cork, trying desperately to find the one top which actually existed. When she eventually popped it open, a light brown smoke slid lazily out, and there was the smell of exceedingly burnt leather. This didn't put the tiefling off however, as she quickly downed the entire contents, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and shuddering. Neeshka wondered why, when his [ale purgative was so abundant and sought-after, Sand still made it taste _disgusting_.

_That elf has __**sick**__ humour._

As her normal sense of reality began to return, the tiefling dived back into her pack again, searching for her other bottle, as her head was still thumping considerably.

"Bishop? Have you seen a bottle, about this big, smells like troll dung?" she looked up,"…Bishop?"

The rangerwas sat a few yards in front of a bush, bow placed nonchalantly at his side, as nonchalantly as a bow can be. Which, really, isn't very much. But at least he was trying. An empty bottle lay by his feet and he had a severely disgusted look on his face.

The source of the disgust became obvious as the berry bush in front of him spoke next.

"Say...pretty please."

The ranger screwed up his face, and his right eye began to twitch again as he took a deep breath.

"…Pretty please, oh great and," Bishop furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to recall what the gnome had listed beforehand,"…'Fantabulous' – I'm telling you that isn't a word – Grobnar, who is the most," he spat. "magnificent leader I have ever had, may I have the map?"

The bush contemplated this.

"…Yeees." a rock flew out of the bush, and hit Bishop squarely on the head.

Neeshka laughed, and the ranger, having only just noticed her presence, snapped his head around and tried to scowl at her. The effect was ruined by the twitch of his right eye, and the large purple bruise forming on the middle of his forehead.

"Whoops!" the bush cried.

Bishop gritted his teeth. "I'm going to _strangle_ you both!"

"Aw, ish ickle Bishwop gwoing to stwangle Neeshka?" the tiefling cooed, waving her arms around in mock horror.

He ignored her, tearing the map from the [offensive rock and walking over to Grobnar's berry bush, which had begun squealing again as he approached. With a disturbing calmness, Bishop reached inside, pulling the gnome out by his hair as he squeaked, waving two small berry sprigs.

"Don't hurt me! It's not my fault! The Wendersnaven did it!" the gnome cried, as the ranger dropped him roughly onto the dirt floor in front of Neeshka.

Bishop, seeming having regained his usual snide attitude in the face of Neeshka's teasing, snorted. "Hah. You two, stay here. I'll be back before you even notice I'm gone." He slung his bow over his back, drew his longsword and disappeared into the shadows. It would have been nice to say this occurred with a dramatic soundtrack, possibly involving cymbals and an interesting use of a xylophone, but Grobnar was too busy squashing berries onto his boots to notice the ranger's exit. Neeshka watched him from her rock expectantly. Any moment now…

The gnome, content that his boots were a satisfactorily morbid colour, looked up. "Neeshka. Bishop's gone."

"I had noticed that, Grobnar, yes."

"He said he'd be back when I noticed that."

The tiefling rolled her eyes. She liked Grobnar, but for someone who was supposed to be intelligent, he really was awfully dense. She decided to use the most common excuse.

"It's because he's an idiot."

The 'idiot' re-appeared a short while later walking across the clearing, waving a small leather bag warily, seemingly holding his longsword as far away as was humanly possible.

"I am never, _ever_, using this sword again." he threw it dramatically onto the floor.

"Oh no, Bishop, you didn't…did you?" Grobnar's eyes went wide.

The ranger look genuinely offended. "What do you take me for, some kind of sleaze?!"

Neeshka smiled, "…Yeees."


End file.
